A Diet of Lexical Items

Just had a bit of a creative spurt this morning and thought it would be good to let you see the fruits of my labour. Few things to talk about this week, first of them being that my mood's picked up a lot since the first half of the week, when work stress and Valentine confusion seemed to make everything seem very muggy, how impending deadlines felt impossible and cheering up seemed utterly implausible, I'm now actually in a really good mood.

I met up with the guy who has lost his job because of disclosing his serostatus and was very impressed by his optimism about the whole thing, how pragmatic his approach has been to the virus and how little he worries, trusting in the doctors to maintain his current good health, how readily he took to the medication, asking what on earth the people who complain about the medication have got to justify it when he had a couple of days of feeling ill then felt great on the tablets. No annoyance at having to take them, just a shrug of the shoulders and, "Well, that's how it is now."

I would that I had talked to him the moment I was diagnosed, then I'd know to question the soul-searching and the anxieties I've held since finding out my status. Still, were it not for the catalyst of the diagnosis, I might not have embarked on the road I've followed, becoming single, concentrating on my creativity, getting back into photography as a daily practice, defining my politics more defiantly and generally diving headfirst into all kinds of strange scenarios. Through my obsession about the virus I've learned a lot, I've met new people, experienced some strange scenarios I might not otherwise have seen played out in front of me.

However, the flip-side of it all is that it's made me intellectually lazy about reading my emotions. When I'm anxious about being lonely, I translate it into fretting about weight loss or night sweats, neither of which are a problem any more. When I am nervous about meeting someone new, I proclaim my fears about disclosure and serodiscordance. It's lazy thinking, really, getting involved in online arguments about barebacking, becoming the voice of the people for HIV positive people when really I could just leave well alone, knowing that no-one ever changed their mind thanks to the internet.

Knowing which battles to fight is important, as is recognising when you're dwelling needlessly on things you can't change and worst of all is worrying about things which may well not come to pass and remaining anxious about conditional clauses.

I've indulged myself a lot with this blog, and let out some deeply skewed thinking which I attached to the virus which hasn't even really done anything to me yet. Not directly, anyway. Sure, I had night sweats sometimes, only badly very infrequently. Generally, I need an open window and a lighter quilt, I think. It's not seeing the wood for the trees to let this damned thing define me.

Yeah, sure, I'm writing about it, but this isn't me, and no matter what percentage of my blood it occupies, it isn't my main defining feature and I should stop letting myself be the token nigger in conversation. Not today, anyway. No, today, I'm quietly optimistic about the future that could unfold in front of me, looking to my creativity for my inspiration, not some microscopic parasite in my blood. A breath of fresh air to have a day where I'm not picking at scabs, but properly considering my options for what's to come.

Yeah, I'm okay and things will work out just fine.